Taming of A Shrew
by KricketWilliams
Summary: Erin Strauss receives an ultimatum, and help from a most unlikely source...Can a tiger really change her stripes? Hints of MG. As usual, I don't own a thing
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_AN: This is not at all my normal pairing. Heck, I don't even see these two as a pairing normally, and I worry about my sanity writing anything about this woman in general, but I am always up for a challenge. Not only that, I feel I have the most loyal, terrific group of people reading my stuff...I hope you all read...and digest...and mull it over...and then let me know what you think...(Because I ended up loving it!)_

_Lots of love, Kricket_

* * *

><p>God, she hated these things—these <em>annual reviews<em>. They made her feel nervous, squirrelly—like a scared little girl afraid of being reprimanded.

She was so far beyond that now.

"Erin, you can come in, now," the cute blonde secretary for Jack Fickler said, with a warm smile that lacked all saccharine.

"Chief Strauss," she said, giving her best chilling glare to the girl. "After eighteen years with the FBI, I think I have _earned_ the use of my title, don't you?"

The cornflower blue eyes of the intern began to blink rapidly. "I...I..."

Erin brushed right past her, not bothering to let the intern—_Susan__—_finish. That girl was disposable to her, like so many of the other people she had met over the years. Jack sure knew how to pick 'em; his tastes rarely changed; they'd only gotten younger over the years...or she was getting older.

There were three other men in the room waiting for her when she entered. That didn't surprise her; women, especially women in positions of power, were few and far between in the FBI. She came from a long line of males in her family that were high ranking officials in the FBI. Her cousin had warned her about it when she'd said she wanted to join the bureau so many years ago...

"_Really, Err Bear?" her cousin said when s__he found__ out she was a cadet for the __FBI. "That__ place is a sausage fest."_

"_Sandy, I can handle it," she said with a laugh._

Some days, she wondered…

Fickler stood, stroking his small beard on his rather small, pointed head. She hated that goatee on him. It made him look a little like a devil caricature from a cartoon. She'd expect something like that from Agent Rossi—_he_ was the devil—but the director of the FBI should be clean shaven.

"Erin, welcome."

"Chief Fickler," she said, shaking his extended hand, and then taking her seat.

Jack opened her file, spreading it out in front of him, just like she would've done if she needed to speak with Aaron Hotchner. There were multiple papers in the file, which intensified that nervous feeling she had.

"This year, in case you were unaware, we did a management survey," he began nonchalantly. "We asked agents to rate their supervisors and the confidence they had in their management."

She paled. This wasn't going to be good.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You received the lowest marks out of any of the Section Chiefs in the bureau, Erin." He sat back, folded his hands on his no longer flat stomach. "Can you explain that?"

"I run a tight ship. I am far stricter than some of my colleagues—"

"—who received far better scores than you…" Chief Morris, one of the other men in the room, said, letting his words trail off as he arched a brow.

She'd never liked Morris.

She turned to look at him. "I have different types of teams than the others have—ones that don't fit under regular protocol. Take the BAU, for example. They—"

"Erin, you come across as pompous, out of touch, arrogant, unapproachable..." Chief Fickler said, looking at the paper. "And in one case, for one person, you came across as—and I quote—_downright__ mean_."

She took a deep breath, trying to steady her temper. Obviously they didn't want an explanation.

"What does this mean?" she asked calmly, far more calmly than she was feeling.

Chief Gallagher glared over at her. "What it means, Erin, is this: you represent the FBI. None of those adjectives are things that we want representing us."

"What we want is competent, in touch, grounded, willing to help," Chief Morris added, completely unnecessarily in her book.

"What does this entail for me?" she asked.

Jack smiled, one that was full of saccharine this time. "Erin, we like you. You are a scrapper, came up through the ranks like any of us in here, and yet…you lack personality and charisma."

She stiffened. That made her feel like she was running for a beauty pageant!

"I do what—"

"What you will be doing is getting to know your teams, changing their opinions, and then, hopefully, changing ours," he interrupted, narrowing her eyes. "Or we may need to find permanent placement in an arena where you do no direct supervision."

She sat quietly, getting more angry by the second. She wanted to rip that little beard he kept stroking off his homely face. She wanted to stand up and tell all of them how far she had come, and exactly how hard it had been. They were part of the boys club; she wasn't. No one in there would've taken her seriously years ago if she had been damned Miss FBI!

However…she had no choice. She needed this job, no matter how shitty it could be at times.

"I understand," she gritted out as nicely as she could.

"Other than that," he said, glancing at the rest of the files, "you've stayed in budget and have done an exemplary job." Jack looked up at her. "Keep up the good work there."

Her cheek ticked. "Thank you."

"You may be excused," he said.

She rose, and the other men rose to their feet. She didn't bother shaking their hands before she walked out.

She'd just made it to the elevator, when she heard a voice.

"Chief Strauss, wait!"

Turning, she saw the bubble-headed secretary from before. She was carrying a ream of paper.

She shot the girl a cold eye.

"I know I shouldn't give you these…but I thought they may help you," she said, holding out the pile of papers.

"What are these?" Erin asked haughtily.

"Those are your evals from your peers and the staff you supervise," the girl replied. Her eyes were warm, sad, sympathetic...which only made Erin uncomfortable.

"Why do I want those?"

"Because if you read them, you might understand them…and maybe understand yourself," she said. "I did this because it is hard to be a woman in the FBI. I've wanted field duty for a long time, and I thought I'd never get it…"

Erin watched the girl swallow nervously as she took the papers from her. She should be nervous; this was highly inappropriate behavior!

"I didn't realize you had started in my position until I read these for report," the secretary said softly. "You gave me hope of where I could be someday...so I wanted to give you some hope, too."

A part of Erin's chest began to ache, something long buried and forgotten. She didn't have time for that; she needed to quash that feeling, and pronto.

She put her chin up, feeling the ice coming down her spine again, fortifying her. She boarded the elevator and nodded curtly at the girl.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_AN: Thank you so much for the reviews and alerts, and for giving this story a chance. I promise, it is a fun ride!..._

David Rossi stretched his arms over his head, shook his head back and forth until he heard a slight click, and rolled his shoulders. After years of writing books, he knew when his body said _That's __enough__,_and he was at that point now.

Of course, he wasn't writing a book; he was doing a review of a case from over in Cleveland, Ohio. It wasn't a great case, either. It was a very cold case from 1995; there had been no leads, and the detectives that had worked the case at the time had polluted all of the evidence. Still, three women had been brutally murdered, and they deserved the best profile he could offer.

Tomorrow. He could do a lot more for them when he was fresh and well rested...and at home.

He stood from his desk, slid on his _Columbo_style trench coat he'd had for years, and grabbed his briefcase, before heading out the door. He had a long drive; he didn't live anywhere near Quantico proper like the rest of the team did. He learned the hard way a long time ago to keep business and pleasure far, far away from each other.

He knocked on the door frame of the office next door. Hotch was on the phone with someone, so he simply saluted the other man.

Hotch quirked a slight grin, waved, and continued on with his conversation.

He passed slowly across the balcony and looked down into the bullpen at Prentiss, Reid, and Seaver. They were all chatting about something—probably plans for this weekend. He waved and got a wave back from all three.

Next, he passed Derek Morgan's office, and found the door open, Morgan absent from his desk. He hadn't expected Derek to be there; he rarely sat in his own office.

The next door was Penelope Garcia's _lair_.

Just before he made it to the door frame, he called out, "I'm approaching...You two had better be decent."

"Very funny, Rossi," Morgan quipped, rolling his eyes when Dave popped his head around the jam. Morgan was sitting on the corner of Penelope's desk—his usual spot—watching Penelope intently.

She didn't seem to notice Morgan; she was holding a mirror, fixing her lipstick. When she finished, she turned and smiled brilliantly at him. "Have a great weekend, Super Agent."

"You, too, Kitten," he answered, watching as she glanced coyly over at Derek, like a great weekend would have to involve him.

"Thanks," she said, her cheeks flushing just slightly.

Dave smiled to himself. His earlier perception was wrong: She'd noticed Morgan, all right.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids," he added, giving them a knowing look.

"Get out, Rossi," Derek growled.

Chuckling, he headed to the elevator and pressed the button to head down to the first floor, en route to the parking garage. He yawned, thinking he needed to go to bed earlier most nights. Years ago, he'd never dream of going to bed early on a weekend, but now...he listened to what his body was telling him.

He chuckled again. Well...not quite _everything_his body was saying!

Groaning to himself, he thought that now wasn't the time to be thinking of his libido. He was passing the office of the ball-breaking dragon lady, Erin Strauss. He seriously didn't think the woman had a kind bone in her body.

When he'd first met her, she had been young, fresh, impressionable—not too unlike JJ, Reid, or even Ashley. She'd been a looker, too, with porcelain doll blonde hair and blue eyes. A lot of men would've given their left nut to sleep with her—him, included, he was sad to admit.

Then, he'd talked to her, found out what a heartless, social climbing bitch she truly was, and any thought of passion died immediately. She'd become an enemy, ruthless in her ambition—not unlike how he could've been, if he had allowed it.

Out of habit, he glanced in her window as he passed. It was an old detective habit; you didn't pass a premise without making sure it was all clear. It wasn't because he wanted to sneak a peak at Erin. Hell, no. He'd seriously be fine if he never saw her again.

But what he saw through that window surprised him.

She was slumped over her desk, peering at papers, looking as if her world had just come to an end. There was no mistaking the despair on her face; Dave couldn't remember ever feeling quite how she looked. Her chin was tucked close to her chest in utter dejection. She put her elbow on the desk, rested her face in her palm, and then shook her head slightly.

_Get out, Rossi_, he told himself. _Whatever her __problem is, she can handle__ it herself. She sure as hell is no friend of yours_.

As he watched, she sat back up in her chair, tucked her blonde hair behind her ears, and took a deep breath. Then she reached for a Kleenex®...and dabbed her eyes.

_You waited too long, you __shmuck! _his conscience railed at him. He was a sucker for a woman's tears, more than anything on earth. He couldn't stand to see them cry—unless they were an UNSUB. Then he was rather heartless to them.

But Erin wasn't an UNSUB. She was a bitch on wheels, but she was a human being-not a killer or a rapist.

Girding himself for what he knew he was inconceivably going to do, he reached for her doorknob and turned it.

* * *

><p>The clicking of the door caused her to gasp just slightly. She wasn't expecting any visitors; she rarely had them anyway, and never this late in the day.<p>

Then she saw who it was.

"David," she said, shaking her head. Of course, one of those upper cronies probably called him and told him their good news. She laughed bitterly. "Did you come to gloat?"

"Why would I do that?" He smirked at her. "I didn't see any houses falling from the sky, so I assume you're still with us."

She shook her head. The worst thing about David Rossi was that she couldn't fire him, couldn't call him out for what he said to her. He was there because everyone wanted him there. He was the best of the best. He didn't need the money, he didn't need the fame or prestige; he had them both already. He'd always had some slight respect for her, but that was minimal at best.

And now she had to suffer with this snarky bastard and make nice with him for his good review.

"What are you here for then, David?"

He took a seat across from her and leaned forward, clasping his hands in front of him. He was always such a dark, imposing figure, swarthy and intense, like a mafia lord—like something with him was not on the up and up, and he liked it that way.

"No, no questions for me," he began. "I want to know what your issue was. What are you afraid I am going to gloat about?"

She snorted with laughter. "Like I would tell you! I'd be insane—"

"You were in here, looking like Armageddon was just announced, looking like you needed a friend. And Erin?" he said bluntly, narrowing his eyes at her. "We both know you have very few of those."

"How did—"

"So I am here," he interrupted, ignoring her, "as a long time colleague with nothing to gain and everything to lose, telling you that I am giving you five minutes to decide—"

This time she interrupted, "This is ridiculous, I—"

"Time just went down to two minutes," he drawled slowly, and then arched a superior brow at her. "Either you confide in me and let me help you, or you sit and wallow in whatever this is, keeping your little secret...knowing you can't do a damned thing to help yourself."

She stared at him, unable to move a muscle. She was simply speechless.

He leaned back and crossed his ankle on his knee. "Clock starts now."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews and the continued support! :)..._

Erin sat across from David Rossi, hoping sincerely that the smoke she knew was coming out of her ears was not visible to him. Regardless of the situation, she _liked_ to keep her cool demeanor, but this man tested her beyond all measure.

Deep down, in the darkest pit of her soul that his twin brother with the horns controlled, that part of her had to admit that he was correct. She didn't have anyone to talk to about this, not a single person, not anyone, to ask advice, and she was stuck. Devil's advocate that he was, she didn't trust him as far as she could throw him, and yet…

"Ding," he called out, looking at his watch. He met her eyes and arched a superior brow at her. "Time's up, Erin. What's it gonna be?"

She gave him her frostiest glare. "So. You want to know what my issues are?"

"Sure. Why the hell not?" he replied with a quirk of his lips. "Besides the ones in your bedroom…I can guess what those are."

She felt her mouth pinch into a thin line. "Never mind. I don't know why I ever thought I should talk to you."

"I was teasing, Erin," he said with a warm smile. "I think that may be part of your problem; you don't know how to take teasing."

Fighting her mouth gaping open, she asked, "Why do you say that?"

He grinned again. "I was going to say it's because I'm one hell of a profiler…but I will let you in on it." He tapped the performance evaluations in front of her. "While you pondered, I looked at these and put two and two together."

"And?"

"You got some pretty negative reviews from people; they don't like you," he said bluntly.

She scoffed. "Not liking isn't the problem, David. They _hate_ me."

"I'm surprised, Erin," he said, narrowing his eyes at her. "You seemed like the type that didn't give a damn about public opinion."

"I don't," she agreed. "But when it means my job, I have to care."

He shot a smirk her way. "The FBI wants a warm and fuzzy Strauss?"

"Not exactly," she answered. "An approachable, team-spirited Strauss is more like it."

Watching his mouth twist into another wry smile, followed by a tongue-in-cheek look, he sat back again and clasped his hands. "I see where you have a problem."

Her hopes and her spirit fell even more as she looked at the expression on his face. "That bad?"

"You aren't exactly Miss Congeniality."

The pageant reference irritated her even more, raising her hackles.

"Well, I have no choice now, do I?" she snapped rhetorically, narrowing her eyes at him.

He opened his mouth like he was about to speak, and then he closed it, stopping himself. "Nah. It's not worth it."

"Oh, go ahead and say it," she hissed. "It's never been like you, David, to hold back."

"If you bothered to humble yourself, actually _see_ what is written—"

"I did read them!"

"Not _read_, Erin," he snarled back. "_See_. _Digest. Absorb_. _Listen_ to what those people are trying to say to you."

"I'm _downright mean_," she replied snarkily. "What more is there to know?"

"If you can figure that out, I can help you," he said, standing up from the chair across from her. He took his card from his wallet, scribbled his personal number on it, and flung it on her desk. "Otherwise, you're on your own…"

He walked to the door and opened it. "Like you always are."

She watched him walk out...and not for the first time in her life, she felt completely on her own.

* * *

><p>Sitting at home, eating a nicely done veal scalopini over fettuccine and drinking mellow aged Chianti, Dave <em>should've<em> been feeling supremely good. Instead, he was musing over a woman he didn't really give a damn about.

"Jesus," he muttered, pushing his plate aside. He had never met a woman as frustrating as Erin Strauss. He understood ambition, he understood drive, but he didn't understand the need to come across that cold.

She'd always been like that, for as long as he could remember. She had been a pretty thing—strong blue eyes and a lot of gumption—and yet, even then, she could freeze ice with a look. He'd never seen her laugh, highly doubted he'd seen a smile from the woman in twenty years.

Not only that, the sad look she had, that lost look, had to do with her losing her job, not with the bald-faced truth that people hated her. He'd seen on the form on her desk, out of thirty-eight reviews, no one-not one single person-had given her a favorable one. He couldn't blame them; his review, surprisingly, had not been scathing, but it had been woman seriously did not know how to relate to people.

Dave thought about the responses she'd mentioned. _Downright mean_. He smiled to himself, knowing a certain tech kitten must've written that! That was just like Garcia, to know exactly where to strike...in the gentlest fashion, of course!

And Garcia, and everyone else on the team, would tell him: you can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped.

Picking up his glass of wine, he strolled into his living room and took a seat on the dark leather couch. He was going to sit and relax, listen to the strains of an excellent Italian opera, and think of anybody but that immensely frustrating woman.

And then his cell phone rang.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews, and the alerts, and the favorites, you guys...Here we go..._

"Rossi."

She couldn't help it. The minute she heard his voice, she froze. She had to fight hitting the end button on her phone. It was so out of character for her to call, she—

"Are you going to say anything, Erin, or are you going to sit there and overanalyze it?"

There was humor in his voice, enough to make her irritated with him...and to make her talk.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you, David?" she quipped.

"Of course not," he said with a soft chuckle. "Would you?"

She thought about that honestly…

"I probably wouldn't," she answered, telling a slight truth.

She knew the answer deep down. No, she most definitely wouldn't. If David Rossi came crawling to her for anything—the smug, superior SOB—she would have made him beg…and then turned him away empty handed.

"I'll remember that, if I ever need you," he remarked sarcastically, and she could tell her responses hadn't fooled him.

"What can you do to help me?" she asked, cutting to brass tacks. She didn't want to spend her evening chewing this over with David. She'd spent more than enough time talking to him already.

"That depends on a lot of factors," he countered. "What did you learn?"

"A lot," she said.

That was the truth. Looking at it, trying hard to see what they had said didn't help her. She didn't feel for these people, and what Rossi was trying to tell her was to feel their emotions. She closed herself off to that—she had to, to do her job—and therein lay her problem.

"Elaborate."

Sighing, she answered, "I don't understand these people, David. They said I was unapproachable. I'm no different than the way our supervisors were. Remember Agent Elliot?"

"The hair-lipped, tough old bastard?" Rossi commented.

Erin smiled in spite of herself. She'd forgotten about his hair lip. "That's the one."

"He was a monster, Erin."

"That isn't the point," she said flatly. "He was my superior. I _never_ approached my supervisors unless I absolutely had to. It was a sign of competence, strength. This...wanting warmth from a superior doesn't make sense to me."

"I understand," he said sympathetically. "I had a hard time working in _team thinking_ _mode_ when I started back at the BAU."

She paused, surprised. "You did?"

"Yes. The way they do things now, in comparison to when I created the unit…" He paused, taking a deep breath. "World's apart."

Ha! Even the great David Rossi had problems with that rebellious BAU team! She derived some joy out of that.

She snorted.. "That shows they didn't follow protocol."

"No," he answered shortly. "That showed I was out of touch. Archaic. Unable to relate."

"I don't follow—"

"Their methods, Erin, were _better_ than what mine had been. They'd evolved from where I started, learned different communication skills and techniques," he explained. "They don't talk just to be listened to; they have input on every case that may make us look into an area we hadn't broached. As a result, we're solving more difficult cases in a third of the time that it had taken my original agents."

Her heart thundered in her chest as she started to absorb what he was saying. Was she hopelessly out of touch? Archaic in her management? It was her biggest fear, now both verbalized and on paper.

"_In order to lead, you must follow_. Have you heard that old quote?" he asked softly.

"Yes."

"Learn from them, build their trust by trusting in them first, and you will get where you need to be," he said.

Trust? Trust in these same people who called her _antagonistic, a relic, downright mean_?

"I don't know if I can do it," she answered honestly.

"Do you have a choice?"

Her gut fell to her feet, and her head ached. She'd been raised to respect authority, to do her job and not question. It was called "having a good work ethic." She had an outstanding work ethic; it had lead her to her position now.

...Which was being challenged because she no longer fit in.

"No," she replied quietly. "I don't."

He sighed. "You don't have to sound so bleak about this. I'm not leading you to the guillotine."

She held back a bitter laugh. That was exactly how she felt.

"What is your plan?" she asked.

"Team building meetings. Starting with the BAU team," he said. "I will clear the way, tell them that you will not hold anything said in that meeting against them, and you will hold to that promise—out of respect to them."

"Respect?" she growled. She'd been fighting for respect from that BAU team from the minute Aaron Hotchner arrived on board. She wasn't going to—

"You have to _earn_ respect, Erin," he snapped back. "If you want my help, you _will_ respect my team—they have earned it—or you can lose your precious job. That is my offer."

Biting the inside of her cheek, she answered, "When do we start?"

"Let me clear it with them first."

"Will it be a problem?" she asked, sounding somewhat wary.

He scoffed. "No, none at all."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews. I have been having a devil of a time signing in, so I apologize for the long wait. I will be updating later today, too... _

"I'm thinking about bringing Chief Strauss in for a team building meeting," Rossi announced one morning the next week in the boardroom.

"Yeah, right," Derek Morgan said, a big grin on his face. Reid, Prentiss, Seaver, and Garcia all were grinning, too, obviously thinking the same thing Morgan was…that he was joking.

They'd expect him to bring Satan in before they'd expect Erin.

Dave didn't say anything; he merely maintained his stoic look. He knew this was going to be terrible, but he didn't know exactly _how_ terrible.

Prentiss narrowed her eyes at him and leaned forward onto the table, bracing herself. "I think he's serious. Reid…is he serious?"

Reid nodded, his eyebrows going up in acute concern. "I believe you are right."

Derek was still grinning. "Bull...he's teas—You're teasing, man, right? You've…"

Dave maintained his poker face.

"Are you nuts? After what that woman did?" Morgan snapped, his frown replaced by an angry scowl. "After _Haley_?"

It was in Morgan's protective nature to defend the team, keep them away from all harm. He knew that Derek would be the hardest sell, after Hotch.

However, unbeknownst to the team, Hotch was on board already. He'd spoken to the team leader before coming to the rest of the team, and after he'd explained the situation, Hotch had agreed to it.

"I trust in your judgment, Dave," he'd said. "If you believe showing her a human side and making her get in touch with her own humanity will make relations with our team better, then I am all for it."

"I thought you'd understand—"

"But, Dave, remember," he'd cautioned, "ambition to Strauss is key. She may not respond how you think she will."

"I'm prepared, Aaron. She's an injured lioness; she may bite the hand that feeds her."

"Just wear your lion taming gear when dealing with her," Hotch had replied with a laugh.

What Rossi hadn't said was that he was more afraid to tell _the team _than dealing with Strauss, and with good reason, too. Strauss he could handle…

The team, he couldn't.

"Rossi, this is a bad idea," Penelope said, which surprised Dave. She'd never been one to not give someone a chance. She was the most open member of their team, by far.

"How can we build trust with someone who consistently threatens to dismantle our team?" Reid asked, his head tilted to the side in question. "That seems…rather counterproductive, don't you think?"

He sighed. Reid, of course, had a logical argument. "I know there are a lot of questions on why we should do this—"

"That's what I'd like to know," Morgan grumbled.

Dave ignored him. "However, all I can say is that _she_ reached out to us, _she_ wanted to improve relations, and _she_ is willing to participate."

"What does Hotch have to say?" Seaver asked.

"Hotch is in agreement," he explained.

A hush fell over the room as everyone obviously contemplated what this would mean for the team. Everyone was still skeptical, but knowing that Hotch had agreed to it was a huge boon in Erin's favor.

Dave thought about how much that woman truly owed Aaron Hotchner. It baffled him that Aaron could be so forgiving. He was doing it for his team, sacrificing his righteous anger, for them. It amazed him; Dave knew he didn't have that ability deep in his soul.

"Well, one thing," Prentiss said, the first one to speak. "At least we outnumber her."

Derek snickered and nodded in agreement.

"True," Seaver added, grinning.

"I'm in," Penelope said cautiously, "but if she says one thing wrong or hurts our team, she'll have such bad credit, she won't be able to charge a loaf of bread!"

"Easy, baby," Derek murmured teasingly, putting his arm around her. "All that fury unleashed is an awesome sight."

She snuggled closer to him.

"Hey! Maybe we can do one of those trust fall things and…ummm…`forget' to catch her?" Reid asked, eyebrows up, a teasing—and somewhat hopeful!—grin on his face.

"Maybe we can meet on the top of a building and do it?" Prentiss added dryly.

"Rossi, where and when is this gonna be?" Derek asked.

He hadn't thought that far ahead. He was simply glad the players were all in place.

"I'll have to let you know," he said, as Hotch walked into the room.

"Okay, everyone," he started, looking around. "I trust Rossi told you his proposal?"

The round of grumbles answered him.

He arched a brow at Dave in the classic _I told you this would happen_ look, and then took his seat. "Penelope, you may present…"


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews! _

"Where are we headed?" Erin asked, glancing over at Dave. He had insisted on picking her up from her house when they had talked on the phone earlier. She didn't like it; riding with him put them in close contact for extended periods of time, and she wasn't in the mood to defend herself for that long.

"Sergio's," he responded, never taking his eyes off the road.

She leaned back in her seat and settled in for a longer drive, familiar with the distance to the restaurant they were going to. The buttery leather of the seats cushioned her, attesting to the luxury of the car.

"This is a nice car," she admitted.

"Thank you."

"We obviously pay you too much," she muttered.

This caused him to glance over in pleased surprise. "Why, Erin! Was that a _joke_?"

"I'm capable of those sometimes," she answered, and watched as a gentle smile graced his face. It was warm and genuine, not at all snarky or Dave-like. It made her uneasy; that would explain why her heart had started beating just a touch faster at that smile.

"Good to know," he replied.

She closed her eyes, trying hard to ignore him. The close quarters, combined with the spicy scent of his cologne, made him singularly impossible to ignore. She could picture him clear as day in her mind: dark eyes, swarthy skin, white teeth…and that annoying goatee that seemed to fit his face.

"The team is going to be there tonight?" she asked, wishing that nervous sound in her voice would go away. She was a fierce leader; she wasn't afraid of anyone.

"Every last one of 'em."

Something in his tone stated that was not an easy undertaking. "Was it hard to get them to agree?"

"Nah," he said.

She knew he was lying, but she didn't argue it. She didn't expect those people to be jumping for joy to be around her. She wasn't thrilled to be around them, either.

"Well, that's good."

"It helped that I told them they could take a day off to make up for it."

"You what?" she yelled. "I can't authorize—"

"You can, and you will," he said, again not bothering to look at her. "Use your powers for good instead of evil once, Erin. It'll feel good."

She could feel her face pinching with tension. "There are protocols to be followed, David."

He glanced over and arched a brow at her. "And those protocols are keeping your job?"

She stiffened and growled at him. "That isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," he argued. "You're almost fifty years old; you should've learned that by now."

"Oh, believe me," she snapped defensively. "I've learned that lesson far more than you have, David Rossi. You've been to the head of the class; you've earned the brass's respect, simply because you have a penis. I've had to fight for everything I have ever had!"

He pulled the car over abruptly to the side of the road, jerking her to the side, making her glad she had her seatbelt on. He turned to face her, his face livid, one eye narrowed, shooting her down. She felt her stomach fall, but she kept her bravado up. She refused to show him weakness.

"Did you ever think that maybe I earned my respect because I had original thinking? That I created a unit and a type of science that had never been done before? Did you ever think, in that chauvinistic brain of yours, that I had hard knocks, too? That I worked so many hours, dedicated my _life_ to this place, that it cost me three decent wives?"

He took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself down. His cheek was still ticking, but his face had lost the red tone of rage. "Any accolades I get, I _earned_, Erin. I did that, despite the cost to me personally. My penis—impressive though it is—had _nothing_ to do with it."

She was speechless. He was absolutely right. He did earn the respect he'd been given. Others may not have, but she didn't know their personal stories or what they had been through. She'd just seen them over the years, golfing, drinks, other things she had never been invited to, and resented them for it. Not that she would've wanted to go for reasons other than politics. She'd never thought of being chauvinistic herself.

Was she a female chauvinist pig?

"I'm sorry," she said. She rarely ever said those words, but in this case, he deserved to hear them.

He paused for a moment, and then spoke to her again. "Look, Erin...I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have gone that extra step without consulting you, but I was floundering—there was no other choice. I am putting myself on the line with my team for you. I can't even explain why to myself. God help me, but I feel sorry for lost causes."

She'd needed that, needed his apology, his explanation, but more than anything, she needed him as a champion. She never would've guessed in a million years David Rossi would be her hero. She blinked, trying to steel herself against the emotion she was feeling...being humbled with gratitude.

He pulled back onto the road and continued to drive. "You have an opportunity to change your perception and make a fresh start with the finest group of people I have ever worked with." He shot her solid glare. "Don't fuck this up."

She didn't reply, didn't trust herself to speak. Instead, she stared out the window and continued thinking.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, PMs and alerts...Time for Erin to get reacquainted with the team..._

"I can't believe he is putting us through this," Emily said with no small amount of disgust. She viciously took a bite of her breadstick, as if she were pretending to bite the head off a certain senior profiler.

"It is highly suspicious," Reid began, that confused look on his face saying it all. "I truly thought they _hated_ each other."

"Obviously not," Prentiss mused again. "Pass the balsamic vinegar."

Penelope handed the cruet over to her. "I think they do hate each other, but something made him decide to help her." Her eyes widened with an excited gleam. "Maybe one of the big brass asked him to train her to be a better person?"

Derek gave an off-kilter grin. "I highly doubt that, sugar, but it is a cute idea."

She pouted at him. "What's so cute about it, angel fish? They must've listened to what we had to say about her in the reviews and had to act on it."

"That would be the fastest I've ever seen a bureaucracy move, baby," he said, reaching up to tap her nose with his finger.

A string of events happened that usually happened with Morgan and Garcia: She moved her mouth over to kiss his finger, which made him cup her cheek, which…

"Hey, you two," Emily grumbled under her breath. "Ixnay on the issing-kay; here comes Strauss."

"Huh?" Penelope asked, still somewhat bemused.

Emily jerked her head towards the door,

David Rossi, or _The Traitor_, as he was being quietly called, walked in with _The Enemy_. He was leading her towards the coat check, his hand in the middle of Strauss's back.

"Kind of cozy, don't you think?" Reid remarked to Emily.

Morgan glanced over at the door, and then snorted in disbelief. "Rossi and Strauss? Hell, no."

Emily's brows drew to a frown. "You know, it is kind of cozy, isn't it?"

"I wish Hotch were here," Seaver said, watching with a confused frown, too. "He would know what was happening."

"He's coming," Penelope said. "Jack's aunt was late coming to the house. She had classes."

"Hotch is pretty amazing to even show up, after all this woman has put him through," Morgan said, causing the rest of the team to nod.

"Strauss was simply doing her job," Hotch said, surprising everyone, coming from the other direction. He removed his coat, hung it neatly on the back of a chair, and then took a seat next to Seaver.

"You really believe that?" Ashley said.

"If there is one thing I have learned working with Chief Strauss over the years, it is that she is methodical and by the book at all times," he explained.

"In that case, it would be highly irregular for her to hold a personal vendetta against someone," Reid added, but his tone of voice sounded like he was trying to convince himself, more than the others.

"Yes." Hotch looked around the table at the faces of everyone sitting there, each dour and unhappy. He smiled and gave a short laugh. "Hey. She's not an UnSub. She's a bitch, but she's not an UnSub."

The rest of the table smiled then, and were back to teasing by the time Rossi and Strauss walked up to the table.

Erin could feel the temperature of the room drop the moment she stepped over to the table where the BAU team was sitting. Aaron Hotchner, ever the gentleman, rose to his feet when she arrived, as well as the rest of the team, albeit more reluctantly.

She shook hands with Aaron first. "Thank you for agreeing to this meeting," she said, her handshake firm.

"I have to admit, after Dave gave me the lowdown, this peaked my interest," he said.

Immediately, she froze, wondering what evil plan David Rossi had for her. What had he said to Aaron?

She shook hands with everyone else—they were all cautiously polite—and then took her seat.

The waiter came to the table, and Erin looked at everyone. They were all enjoying glasses of wine. She said, "Would it be okay if I bought a bottle or two of wine for the table?"

"Here," Dave said, pointing out a few bottles on the menu. "These are the ones we usually get."

"I'll take one of each," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," Hotch said, followed by everyone else murmuring their thanks.

And then the table was silent.

Obviously, they were waiting for her to make some sort of statement. Discomfort and anxiety rolled over her, but she swept it aside. She hated having to tell them her job was on the line, but she needed to make nice with them.

She took a deep breath and bit the bullet. She was the leader; she needed to make an impression on why she was there—no matter how negative this could be.

"I would like to thank you for coming this evening. I know that Agent Rossi has discussed what I need—"

"Yes, Erin," he interrupted, and then continued smoothly, "I explained that you need their cooperation in a team building strategy that you have devised. A series of team building luncheons, outings, and meetings over the next month."

Her heart began to pound again. He could've thrown her under the bus, he could've told the truth, that her job was on the line, that she was desperate and hungry for his help. Instead, he offered her pride back…

But at what cost?

"Would you like to explain?" he asked, the devilish glint in his eyes back.

Now she knew it. The cost would be to let these people have their say. She thought about what he'd said, about this team having original ideas. They _wanted_ their say.

Well, they could start now.

"I have a few plans, but first," she said with a smile, "what do you all think we should do?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_AN: Thanks so much for the reviews. Here you guys go! This is a long chapter; I hope you enjoy. _

After that first big dinner with the BAU team, they started making it a biweekly experience, with her paying every time. She hadn't expensed any of it out on the FBI account—she didn't dare do that—so she footed the bill. She really didn't mind.

She never let David know; he'd probably push her to bill the FBI.

After the third meal, Erin realized they weren't the nest of vipers she had originally thought they were. In fact, she had made a study of them and decided there were things she liked about each one of them.

Spencer Reid was truly brilliant. He was a walking search engine. The man was a never ending font of knowledge from food, to social mores, to wine, to the history of the FBI. He knew things she hadn't had a clue about. She wasn't sure she wanted to have a clue about some of the things he mentioned. She understood Aaron Hotchner's appeal to having Reid around—a walking encyclopedia would be highly useful.

Emily Prentiss was down to earth. She didn't take any nonsense from anyone, and was very matter of fact. She was very bright, too, and polite. There was no way anyone could bully Agent Prentiss into doing things she didn't want to do—she herself had made that mistake a long time ago. It showed that Prentiss hadn't forgotten; she still called her _ma'am_ and _Chief Strauss_, never slipping into less formality or friendliness.

Derek Morgan was as polite as he always was around her, but guarded, too. He obviously sensed there was more to the story than either David or herself were willing to say, but he didn't push it, either. He was very quick to flash a smile at Penelope Garcia, sitting next to him, and was highly attentive of her needs, which brought questions to Erin's mind about the two of them.

Meanwhile, Penelope returned the attention to the very handsome man—only an idiot wouldn't recognize how handsome Agent Morgan was!—who was always seated at her right. She was perky, upbeat, and was even friendly to her. She could get to like Garcia…but she'd have to talk to her about her behavior. She flirted shamelessly with Morgan, and the longing looks they shot each other sealed their fate for her. It shouldn't be allowed; interoffice romance was highly frowned upon in the FBI.

Cadet Seaver was quiet, polite, and didn't say much of anything. She seemed to be absorbing things, just like Erin herself was trying to absorb. Erin expected that, considering her low rank. She wasn't sure how much a cadet could provide to the team. If it weren't for David's insistence, Seaver would not be part of the BAU team—protocol would not have allowed it—and yet, she sensed capability in the young woman.

And then there was Aaron Hotchner. He was everything to this team. He was father, brother, friend…and most of all, leader. He did everything with grace and tact, and obviously had their respect. She had seen the team look to him for advice, giving a cautious eye before responding to her.

This didn't surprise her. She had seen them come together when Aaron's wife had been killed. She had no doubt that they would lay their lives down for him.

She doubted that her own family would do that for her.

The whole team was warm, affectionate, caring, showing each other such feeling. Morgan and Garcia were consistently touching and playing footsie under the table, so obviously the table shook. Reid would say something to tease Prentiss with a gleam in his eyes, causing her to sock him in the arm with a grin of her own. Rossi and Hotchner shared stories with Seaver about the way things were, even dragging Erin into the conversation.

In fact, the whole team seemed to be starting to like her...like she was starting to like them.

As she had watched the team, she was reminded of early days with her cousin, before the FBI. She remembered laughing and teasing, joking, not worrying about where she was headed next, who she met, and if they could advance her status. Where had that gotten her?

And for the first time in her entire career, she felt she had been cheated…by herself.

* * *

><p>She was in the car with David on the way home. He still insisted on picking her up and bringing her to the restaurant. He would drill her in the car about what her experiences were, how she was learning to manage, if she felt she was becoming more to the team.<p>

However, then he would ask her about her life. What she did in her free time, what books she'd read—he'd asked if she'd read his; she had, but she didn't want to admit it—and asked about her family. He was becoming something more than just a colleague she respected—she respected David and he respected her, in a perverse way, he'd said.

He was her friend that saved her when she needed saving most.

They were on the topic of family right now.

"So, your ex, Paul," he said. "What kind of man was he?"

"Indecisive," she said after a moment's thought, and then sighed heavily. "Soft. Helpless. Paul had a very helpless quality about him."

"Really."

"He wasn't a leader," she continued. "I did all the bills, made more money, took care of all the kid's appointments, made the mortgage payments, disciplined Mark and Anna when they had problems…everything. He never made any decisions, until he made the decision to leave with his girlfriend."

He winced. "Big decision."

She sighed again. "Yes, but by that time, I was ready. We hadn't really spoken in years."

"Too much work, not enough relationship," he said. "Classic."

Feeling a kinship with him, she smiled at him. "You, too."

"Oh, yes," he answered. "Especially the passive aggressive part."

She frowned. "Passive aggressive?"

"Paul's what we call a classic passive-aggressive personality," he said, and then arched a brow at her. "I know I'm profiling, but it's what I do, so you'll have to deal with it."

She smiled back at him again. She was fine with him profiling…as long as he didn't profile her!

"Letting you do everything, coming across as helpless, made you feel he _needed_ you. You, on the other hand, were codependent and needed _him_ needing you," he said, glancing at her again.

She could feel her cheeks heating. There was a lot of truth in what he'd said. When she met Paul, he had been so sweet, like a little lost boy. He'd had lanky hair that hung loosely over his eyes, was artistic, and undecided about his career. He'd been a free spirit, somewhat of a drifter. She had loved that about him, loved taking care of him….until two years into their marriage, and he still hadn't found a permanent job.

"Someone like you—a take charge, no nonsense woman—would have disliked that behavior. Sooner or later, you must've gotten sick of his attitude, told him he needed to grow up," he said. "He'd resent that and need to go find another sugar momma."

"Sugar momma?" she replied, almost laughing.

"Yes," he answered, and then smiled at her cheekily. "Because you are so sweet."

She laughed and grinned. "Oh, ho! And I was actually buying what you were saying until that, Dave."

"Erin, you used my nickname," he said, smiling at her again.

Looking away, she muttered teasingly, "Innocent slip up."

She heard his soft laughter while he continued to drive. She thought about what he'd said, about the whole fiasco with Paul. She'd had two children with him, he'd been a house husband, and he'd seemed to care…but the love hadn't been there for years. Twenty years of marriage, and they'd rarely had sex. She wondered how long he'd been looking for an out, too?

It also made her think. Paul had been her perfect foil; everyone said they'd made a gorgeous pair, but he was obviously wrong for her.

"David?" she asked, somewhat hesitant.

"Hmm?"

She couldn't ask him, that would be—

"What kind of man would be good for me?" she spurted out, and then added quickly, "I mean, my type of personality?"

He paused for a second, only momentarily hesitating, before replying, "The type of man that would be best for you would be another alpha personality. One that wouldn't take your shit, without dishing some right back at you."

"Really," she said dryly.

"I mean it," he answered strongly. "You need someone who you can trust, that can take care of you when you need it, and let you fly when you don't. You need a man who is a _man_, one that is strong, but gentle, too. You wouldn't be bored with that kind of man, and more importantly, you'd respect him."

Her heart started to beat harder as she looked over at him, thinking about what he was saying. That sounded like…that sounded….

"That is something very important to you, Erin," he continued softly. "You need someone who is your equal in every way."

They were both quiet for a long time, driving in silence. He finally pulled up in front of her house.

"Thank you," she said, unable to say more than that, and for the first time, she was aware of him in such a different way.

It was a shocking—but pleasant—revelation.

"You're welcome," he said, shaking her out of her thinking.

She opened the car door and stepped out, but before she could shut the door, his voice stopped her.

"Erin?"

She looked back in.

He was looking straight out the window. "If I find that man, I'll let you know."

She shut the door and hurried into the house, her chest oddly sore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews...This story has been such a blast to write..._

Dave was discussing budgetary matters with Hotch, when Morgan and Garcia burst into the office. One look at their faces, and he knew something terrible had happened. Penelope had watery eyes, and Derek looked absolutely stoic.

"What happened?" Hotch asked.

"Sir, it's my fault, sir," Penelope immediately started blathering. "I—"

"No, baby," Derek interrupted. "It's me. I'm guilty."

She placed both hands on his chest. "I can't let you take the blame for this!"

Morgan put his fingertips on her lips. "Will you hush, woman?"

"Stop," Rossi growled. "This is like a bad ping pong match, back and forth, between you two."

Dave could tell Hotch was trying to hide a small smile as he said, "Morgan, what happened?"

"She found out," Derek said plainly, dully. "I didn't look, I thought we were alone, and I kissed Garcia in front of Strauss."

"In my office," Penelope hurriedly added. "That is why it is my fault."

"Sweetheart," Derek said, brushing her hair behind her ears, and then cupping her face. "I'm the one who can't keep my hands off of you."

She pouted prettily. "Well, sugar plum, I'm the one who keeps encouraging your hands."

That caused Dave to laugh, which caused them both to look at him with a glare.

"I think you are making a big deal out of nothing," he said, still chuckling. "So you are dating, and Erin knows. What's the problem?"

Now everyone was staring at him like he was completely out of his gourd.

"Morgan, Garcia," Hotch said after a long pause. "Can you leave the office? I will talk with both of you later about your…indiscretions."

"Sure, Hotch," Morgan replied.

The two headed out of the office, but not before Morgan draped his arm around her shoulders.

"And stay away from each other!" Hotch warned with a serious scowl.

"Yes, sir," Penelope answered sadly, with a look that resembled both a lost puppy and an errant child, and then pulled the door shut again.

After they'd left, Hotch stared down Rossi. "Dave, I think you are losing perspective when it comes to Erin Strauss."

"What?" he said, absolutely incredulous. "I am not."

"She's by the book. Regulations are regulations."

Dave shook his head. "Not anymore. I think I know her better than the rest of you. I've known her for years."

Hotch's arched a brow at him. "And out of those twenty years, you've only liked her for a month."

Rossi could feel his cheek start to twitch in anger. "Hotch, she's not like that."

"I have yet to see—"

"I know her, Aaron!" he snapped. "She's a woman who's changed."

"Dave," Hotch said, his mouth compressed into a thin line. "You may be willing to stake the lifeblood of two of our team members on her new attitude, but I am not."

Rossi felt his stomach hit his feet. Was he doing that? Was he letting his feelings for Erin mar his thinking?

He couldn't do that. He owed Morgan and Garcia, regardless of what was happening between himself and Erin. He needed to be an advocate, and be willing to take Erin on if he had to.

"If something comes down the pipe, let me know," he said coolly. "I will handle it."

Hotch looked over to him. "Dave, you're making the right decision."

"Yeah, I know."

He could feel his chest ache, but he dismissed it. He'd had that happen before for this job.

* * *

><p>Dave was in his office typing, finishing up his last report, when Hotch entered his office.<p>

"Have you checked your email?" he asked, his expression stoic, although that wasn't anything too unusual. Hotch was usually very stoic.

Rossi clicked on his desktop and pulled up the email:

_From: Strauss, E._

_To: Hotchner, A; Rossi, D._

_Subject: Inappropriate Conduct_

He didn't bother to open it. He just shut down his computer and glared up at Hotch, eyes blazing.

"I can't believe it."

"Dave-"

"If you'll excuse me," he said, standing up. "I've got a bitch to take down."

And he left the office without another word.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_AN: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Posting a little early because I have to head out to dinner in a few minutes. I promise to answer reviews asap..._

"You had to do it, didn't you?"

Erin glanced up to see David standing in her doorway, looking at her like she was something scraped off the bottom of his shoe. She had anticipated that he would be angry at her, but not anywhere near the fiery hostility rolling off of him.

In the short two months they had been having these dinners, her attitude had done a complete one-eighty when it came to this team. They used to be the bane of her existence; now, she actually looked forward to their dinners...and to spending time with Dave.

Although he hadn't been any different than he'd normally been with her, she was growing to have feelings for David Rossi. He was witty, capable, and clever. He was a great conversationalist, and an even better listener.

She even liked his goatee now.

After that night he'd profiled the perfect man for her, she started seeing that perfect man in him. She knew she would never be his perfect woman—David's animosity towards her was legendary stuff—but that didn't change what she felt in her heart.

She took heed. After all, she was just learning to listen to her heart; she wasn't going to ignore it now. But now...she was in a quandary.

Last night, when they were leaving the restaurant, she'd noticed a sparkly turquoise button laying on the ground. She had remembered that Penelope had been wearing a turquoise outfit that evening, and had retrieved it in case it had fallen off her outfit. She didn't mind running it down to her office; in fact, she had been looking forward to seeing everyone again.

She had made her way to Penelope's office and knocked, but there was no answer. The door was slightly ajar, so she opened it, and caught Derek Morgan and Penelope in a kiss. It had been no little kiss; Penelope's hands were clenching Derek's shoulders, and Derek's were clenching Penelope's behind. They hadn't even noticed she'd entered, until she'd made a loud, throat-clearing noise.

Twice.

Immediately, they'd begun apologizing, looking guilty as hell for being caught. She had been mortified to find them, and for once was grateful for her rigid spine and cool poker face.

"You know this is a direct violation of the rules," she had said as coolly and businesslike as she could.

"Yes, ma'am," Morgan had said, while Penelope had been speechless, tears in her eyes.

"I will have to speak to your supervisors."

"Yes, ma'am."

She had returned to her office and tapped out an email to both David and Aaron, to discuss this situation further. After all, she had caught them red handed. They knew the rules; there was nothing more she could do.

Now she faced David Rossi, looking angry and accusatory at her, as if _she_ had done something wrong.

"Is Aaron coming?" she asked, trying to look around him.

He took a step in the room and slammed the door. "I don't know what you think you saw, but those two are vital to this team."

"I have no doubt of that, nor do I have any doubt of what I saw," she said coolly, standing up to face him at eye level. She had learned a long time ago never to face an adversary at less than eye level.

Her heart clenched in her chest at her thinking. She hadn't thought of David as an adversary in what felt like a very long time.

"You couldn't look the other way, Erin, could you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

"David, if you had seen them, you would've have been able to turn a blind eye, either," she said. "They had been blatant about it."

"I know what they're like," he snapped. "I've seen them on the dance floor numerous times."

"This is their _work_," she snapped back. "Not a dance floor."

He shrugged. "So they made a mistake."

"A _massive_ one, David!"

"Pardon me for thinking you could understand love," he said, shaking his head in disgust.

She gasped. "That is patently unfair!"

He ignored her. "For once, you could be a real human being and show some compassion, but you chose not to."

Every muscle in her body, every fiber in her being, told her not to say anything more. That anything they'd possibly had was a stupid fabrication in her head, nothing more than that. Everything that composed Chief Erin Strauss told her to shoot him an icy glare and dismiss him from her presence.

But the part of her that was woman made her stay and fight.

"You ass!" she snarled taking a step closer to him. "I walked in on them in a lip lock so strong, I had to clear my throat _twice_ to get their attention! If Fickler had walked in on them, they would've immediately lost their jobs."

"Oh, bullshit, Erin!" he snapped back, his cheek ticking in fury. "I've been to office parties with Fickler; I've seen him in action."

"Oh, yes," she said with a low laugh that sounded nasty to her own ears. "Of course, you and the boy's club."

"There you go with that penis envy again, Erin..."

She gasped again in outrage. "You—!"

"Sounds like you could use one," he said snidely. "Tell me...How long has it been?"

That was it. She needed to rip that smirk off of his face, and she needed to do it right now, or she'd simply die. There was no other recourse.

With a growl so visceral it came from deep in her stomach, she launched herself at him, her claws bared. She was strong, she had FBI training—she was going to make him pay.

But he was stronger.

* * *

><p>Dave wasn't about to let her attack him, the she-devil.<p>

He wrapped an arm around her like a band of steel, along with the other, rendering her upper body useless. She went to kick and stomp at him, and she got one good stomp to his toe, but he pinned her against her desk and caught her legs between his.

She was a lot tougher than he had thought she would be. He was breathing hard with the effort, and her chest was heaving. He watched as she glared at him, watched the fire in her eyes, listened to the sound of her breath, and let out a curse.

The next second, he was kissing her. The magnetic pull between them was far too strong for him to ignore any more. He had tried—the last thing on earth he had wanted was to see Erin as a woman—but it was impossible. For behind that anger in those baby blues, he could see the stirrings of desire, too, as hot as what was burning in him.

She immediately gasped against his mouth, and he took full advantage, sliding his tongue against hers. She didn't bite down, she didn't close her mouth...instead, she let out a moan. He transferred both of her wrists to one of his hands, still holding them behind her back, as he brought the other one up to the back of her head and deepened the kiss.

His mind was registering every sensation. She was delicious, and he was voracious for her. Her silky hair threaded through his fingers, her soft breasts pressed against his chest.

Something inside him told him to stop, that this was not what he wanted to be doing with this woman, that he was angry at her, that she was angry at him, too, and that this changed nothing.

His libido told that part to shut the hell up.

"Oh, God," he groaned against her lips, unable to get enough of how sweet she tasted. Her ex-husband was a fool; who the hell would leave a woman that tasted like this?

"David..." she whimpered, before he kissed her again, bringing both hands up to cradle her skull.

It was then he felt her arms wrap around his ribcage as she pressed herself closer to him.

"Ahem!"

Dave lifted his head and sheltered her with his body instinctively as he turned.

Hotch was standing in the doorway, a wry smile on his face, as if this development hadn't surprised him at all.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

_AN: Thank you for the reviews! Onward with the show..._

Once Dave realized who was in the doorway, he immediately parted from Erin. He glanced at her, saw her _deer in the headlights _look, and nearly smiled.

She was trying to smooth her hair down, her cheeks blazing red, but her hair was a positive rat's nest, and her mouth was puffy and kiss bruised...with a touch of razor burn.

"Give it up, Erin," he whispered.

She glared at him in confusion.

"It's no use," he said under his breath to her. "No matter what you do, it is still going to look like someone kissed the shit out of you."

"Oh, God," she mouthed in horror, her face turning positively scarlet.

"You know...I just said that." He smiled at her, and then chuckled, "Under far better circumstances..."

She gasped at him, and then narrowed her eyes. For a moment, their visitor was forgotten again, as she turned blazing eyes at him and unleashed her fury. "How can you _joke_ at a time like—"

"Relax, Erin..."

"Relax! Are you _insane_? I'm—"

"Excuse me," Hotch said, interrupting.

Her face flooded with color again, and she began stammering. "Aaron, I..I..I don't know what came over me."

Dave laughed out loud at that, earning another glare.

"Stop it!" she hissed.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist," he replied. Before she could respond, he looked over at Hotch. "What were you going to say?"

Hotch's lips were twitching with humor, too, but only Rossi noted it. Dave knew Erin would be too flabbergasted and mortified to notice that.

"I had come down to discuss some inappropriate conduct—per your request—between my tech, Garcia, and SSA Morgan." He arched a brow. "They do realize it is a direct violation of the rules and are willing to take any punishment you see fit."

She blanched. "I..."

Hotch's smile was gentle, and then he shot Dave a chastising look. "Of course, in your email, you had mentioned that both Morgan and Garcia would be verbally warned not to carry on in such a fashion, and that they'd receive only a written warning about conduct unbecoming that would be erased from their files in six months, if no repeat of the incident were to occur."

"That is correct," Erin replied, her voice barely audible.

This time, Rossi paled. He had jumped to the entirely wrong conclusion. He had never bothered to open the email; he'd just assumed Erin would throw Morgan and Garcia under the bus.

He turned to look at Erin, but she didn't look back. Her chin was raised, and her spine was stiff, unyielding, exactly like Chief Strauss again.

He needed to remedy this immediately.

"Aaron, can you leave us for a moment?" he asked.

"Of course," he said, stepping out. He paused for a second, gave Dave a wry smile, and flicked the lock on the door before he shut it.

"Erin—"

"You can leave, too," she interruped, looking down her nose at him. Considering he was taller than she was, he wondered how she was able to do that so effectively.

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"I think it would be best if we cut all contact, except for professional need, Agent Rossi," she said stiffly.

Dave sighed. He deserved this; he had deserved all of this. He had asked her to open up to his team, find her own heart again, and actually care. She had obviously done exactly that, had even gone above and beyond to be his friend.

And the first moment he had to believe in her, he'd failed.

"Erin, we need to talk."

"Chief Strauss!" she shouted, her eyes blazing with outraged anger.

"What?" he asked.

"I will not tolerate insubordination from you any longer, Agent Rossi," she said coolly. "I have put up with a lot over the years from you, but no longer."

"Don't do this," he said. It was almost physical, as if he could see her shut herself completely down.

Her expression was dispassionate, blank. "If that respect is not there, then I don't believe I can work with you anymore."

He scoffed. "That's ridiculous; you know it, Er-"

She interrupted again, that same cool tone to her voice, "If it means that I need to transfer from Quantico to a field job anywhere else, I will do it."

"A field job?" he asked, incredulous. "You wouldn't..."

One look at her stoic, resolved look, and he knew the answer to that question.

He needed to fix this. The woman she was becoming, had _become_, was too wonderful to lose to a misunderstanding.

"Erin," he said, and then reached his hand out to touch her.

She flinched as if he were about to strike her.

That was it for him. He was done. He wasn't going to chase after her; he didn't believe in chasing after any woman. No woman was worth that. When she was ready to listen, she could come to him.

He lowered his hands, let them slap against his sides. "Okay. Have it your way, then."

He turned, tried to open the door, and found it stuck. He tried again, and then with a sigh, angrily flicked the lock back open. A moment later, he walked out of her office, looking back only once.

In that glance, he didn't see her hunched over her desk, crying far harder than she ever had when he had seen her almost three months ago.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

_AN: Thank you for your reviews and for giving this story a chance. Now tell me: Did you feel a little bit for Erin in this? Next story is back to my usual MG fare...lots of romance and love...Hmm...this one was like that, too, wasn't it? ;)_

"I don't know how you did it, Erin," Chief Fickler said, stroking his pointy goatee. "You turned your numbers completely around."

It had been three months since she'd first struck the devil's bargain with David Rossi, and two weeks since she'd spoken with him. He hadn't called; she hadn't expected him to. It wasn't as if she had really mattered to him. He'd gotten what he wanted from her—good relations for his team—and she'd found out today she'd gotten what she'd wanted.

Along with a broken heart.

"There are positive remarks from everyone, saying things like you are courteous, kind, a good listener, attentive, willing to learn,"—he looked down at the paper and smiled—"and _downright wonderful_." His smile was directed at her as he said, "Looking at this report, I have to agree."

"Thank you," she said coolly. "Is my transfer in yet?"

"I put in the request as you asked last week, but..." His voice trailed off, and he looked up from his papers. He was frowning considerably. "You are still considering leaving, even after all of those remarks?"

"Yes," she said, and then added, "as soon as possible."

Shaking his head, he said, "Okay...I will check into what is holding that transfer up."

"Thank you, sir."

"Erin," he said warmly, standing, as did the rest of the leaders in the room. He stretched his hand out to her. "Good job."

She shook it, as elegantly and refined as she could, and then left the room. That group didn't know real emotion; her tears would be wasted on them.

As she made it out to the hall, she saw someone that she had to speak to. Someone definitely worth her time.

She smiled at the intern at the desk. "Hello...Susan. It's nice to see you again."

"Chief Strauss, hel—"

"Please," she said, holding both of the girl's hands in hers. "Call me Erin."

The intern's eyes opened in surprise. A moment later, she gave her a brilliant smile, full of warmth, and then squeezed her hands in return. "Hello, Erin. It's nice to meet _you_."

Erin's eyes watered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Not trusting her words, she nodded her goodbye, before heading onto the elevator.

When she made it to her office, she made it to her desk, and then wiped her eyes with a tissue. She never used to cry; now she felt she'd spent most of the past two weeks doing just that.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

She turned quickly to see David Rossi sitting in a chair.

He stood. "I realize now what you must've thought when Hotch came down here."

She stiffened. "You don't need to say it."

"I didn't set you up, Erin."

She knew she looked a fright. Her nose was probably red, her cheeks and eyes puffy, but she didn't really care. Soon, she'd never have to see him again. Very soon. Yesterday wouldn't be soon enough.

She scoffed, wiping tears away. "Sure."

"I know you think I kissed you because Hotch would catch us in the same position you caught Morgan and Garcia," he said, taking a few steps closer to her. "But I didn't."

She frowned at him. "I am not a fool, David. I know when I was being played."

"Don't you want to know why?"

"No."

In typical Dave fashion, he ignored her. "I kissed you because I had to. I kissed you because I was on fire for you, because you were so imminently kissable at that moment."

"Fighting?" she snorted. "I'm kissable when we're fighting?"

He stood and began walking towards her. She took a step back from him; he was getting far too close.

"Passion, Erin," he said still approaching her. "All that brewing passion."

"David..."

"And you are always kissable," he said quickly, vehemently, taking two steps closer.

"I don't believe you," she said, her chin up in defiance.

Somehow, he had backed her against the desk again. The hair on the back of her neck rose in anticipation, and her foolish heart began to pound, just like it had two weeks ago.

"Believe this," he said, bringing his hands up to cup her face and lowering his mouth to hers.

Again, that heat and passion rushed over her, crackling and sizzling like an open fire, making it impossible to think. She dug her fingers into his arms, holding on for dear life, as he worked his magic with his mouth.

She wanted to be indifferent, or at least be angry, but she couldn't resist his kiss any more than she could resist breathing air. She hadn't realized how badly she needed him, and how badly she wanted him to need her.

Slowly, he kissed a path across her cheek to her right ear, and whispered, "I missed your humor, I missed your spark."

He kissed her earlobe, his mustache tickling the sensitive skin, before he moved his mouth back to hers.

She fell into those deep, drugging kisses of his, knowing that if his hands weren't supporting her, she would crumple to the floor.

"I missed your friendship and how you tell it how it is, no matter what I may think," he whispered in her other ear, giving it light kisses.

He rested his forehead against hers. "Erin, most of all, I missed you. I'm so sorry I didn't believe in you. I wanted to...God knows I did."

"Why didn't you?" she whispered back, her wounded heart in her throat.

"Sweetheart, I wanted to," he said quickly. "God knows I did...but I'm an old, non-trusting fool, with a hot Italian temper."

Nodding, she said, "I can attest to the fool part."

"Hey," he said, cupping her face in his hands. "Be nice to me."

"When am I ever nice to you?" she answered, fighting a smile.

He leaned back to look at her, tilting his head to the left just slightly. "Why, Erin... does this mean you forgive me?"

"Yes." She gave him a brief kiss again. "I may falter, too, down the line, and you'll have to forgive me."

He smiled at her and said, before kissing her again, "That can be arranged."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

_AN: I left a few loose ends, so I figured I needed to close those up before I ended this completely. Sorry about that-I wish you all could read my mind. Here are the unanswered questions that I had answered in my mind, but not written! LOL Kricket_

"You made it!" Penelope Garcia said, standing up to give Erin a big hug with a grin. She was bedecked in sparkling, lime green bolero jacket over a white and blue flowered dress, and had matching lime green earrings and necklace.

"I did," Erin replied with a smile.

"Hi, Kitten," Dave said, kissing Penelope's cheek.

"Can I get you two anything to drink?" Derek asked, shaking Dave's hand. "I have wine, water, Scotch?"

"White wine?" Erin asked.

Derek shook his head. "Sorry, Chief. My baby only drinks red."

"A fabulous Pinot Noir that is to die for. Come on," Pen said, looping her arm around Erin 's arm. "I'll pour you a glass and we can have girl talk."

Erin gave Dave a quick look, and was rewarded when he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss.

"Hurry back."

She knew her look said that was her intention as she followed her hostess into the kitchen.

Penelope Garcia—soon to be Morgan—decided to have a small dinner party to celebrate their new engagement. It was an intimate gathering, just the team and their significants, but it was enough to be a bit daunting. It was the first private gathering Erin had gone to since she'd officially started seeing David Rossi.

"So…how are things going with my favorite super profiler and my favorite section chief?" Penelope asked out in the kitchen as she started pouring the wine.

"Good," Erin answered. "Very good."

"I am so glad," Penelope answered, turning and handing her the glass of wine. "Rossi was lost without you, you know."

She nearly choked on the sip of wine she had dared to sip. No, she hadn't known that!

"Really," she said coolly, still unused to speaking about her emotions.

Penelope's eyes glinted knowingly. "Oh, yes. He pouted around the office and was a positive _Orso_-" she paused and raised a brow "-That's Italian for bear."

Despite feeling bad for David feeling bad, she smiled. After all, she'd suffered, too.

"When he heard about your possible transfer, he was worse than ever. I put two and two together and snap!" She snapped her multicolored fingertips for effect, then continued, "That was it."

Erin 's heart raced. She had been worried about that transfer. She'd been hasty asking for it, and would do anything to take it back, but-

"Of course," Pen added with a shy and hopeful grin, "That is something that can stay on the back burner forever in the computer bylogs…if you'd rather stay here?"

At that point, Erin figured out exactly why her transfer was held up. It seemed her technical analyst was up to no good again.

Which was a wonderful thing.

She hugged Penelope. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it," Penelope said, hugging her back. She stepped away and picked up a tray of wine glasses and started towards the door, but not before she winked at Erin . "After all, I couldn't lose someone who was so _downright wonderful_."

Erin smiled to herself. Dave had guessed it was Penelope who left both the _downright mean_ and _downright wonderful_ comments. He knew his teammates well.

Erin stepped out of the kitchen and headed to David.

"Good girl talk?" he asked, wrapping his arms around her in a protective and loving gesture.

She kissed him lightly and said, "The very best."

And they headed towards the rest of the group of her new friends, ready to face her very happy future.


End file.
